


Lokasenna: Self-Expression Through Creative Writing

by Cephei



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, and occasionally inappropriate language, not so subtle sexual references, so obviously there are going to be cheap shots, well it's flyting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephei/pseuds/Cephei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, How Loki Spends His Time In Therapy Creatively Insulting Everyone Else</p><p>For convenient reasons, Loki is captured and forced into therapy. The therapist suggests Loki try to express his emotions through a less destructive medium, like poetry. Which rapidly deteriorates into Flyting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lokasenna: Self-Expression Through Creative Writing

**Author's Note:**

> I am of the general belief that there will never be enough flyting.
> 
> So, at first I thought, hey, this could be really funny, but then I started writing and realized that Loki was just going to be bitching and the end result was... not as humorous as originally intended, or at least not as light-hearted.

 

And where should I start with Thor’s little toy soldiers.

Well, they’ve not broken yet, a plus I suppose,

and it’s true they have heart, though it really just goes

to provide me with fodder to troll them at will.

I am quite surprised they’re still giving me fuel,

but that is not hard to do since everything that they say

is a joke to be told or some fun I could have if I put it away

in my list of ideas.

 

My first impressions of Midgard, you ask? Oh, I’m sorry, Earth.

Your insistence on the name has filled me with mirth

from the absolute smallness of your brains and your lives,

like the thought that there’s more to it boggles your minds,

and the world is the size of the sheath of a knife,

if it doesn’t fit in than it causes the strife

that will tear you apart with no help of mine,

which is fine, since asunder it pulls, and by fault of your own,

will drag you right under the waves of unknown and despair and demise

where the only truth that you hear will be one made of lies.

 

And the funny thing is that I don’t really care,

since the unholy lot of you whine and you moan,

it got me to thinking as noise fills the air

the idea of ruling you just isn’t fair,

for me I mean,

and the headaches you’d cause would be only obscene

and without ever pause. It’d be easier I know

to just crush you like ants that invaded my home.

 

And let me just tell you the worst of it’s Stark,

who bites at the bit like a dog with a bone

and waves science around like a light in the night.

As if he’s a child that just can’t let go

of the blanket he needs to make his world right.

Except he’s a drunk that the rest of you see as a king among insects

(by which I mean you, just so there’s no mistake).

You all sit back and let him take

control of your lives (your freedom’s a joke)

but when I try the same, well that’s just too much.

And you rage and you fight as if there is such

a thing as the chance that I might leave and let you alone.

But I’m chaos, my dear, and as much as you try,

I’ll always be here when men act as my bards.

Now, back to Stark, have you noticed he’s hard

for the weapon your Captain continues to wield

when he jumps around city streets hurling his shield?

 

Stark thinks that he’s slick, bu I’m sure that the number

of women he’s claimed to have slept with is only a cover

to hide the real goal that he's trying to bed.

It’s really so sad that he is unrequited

since the member in question is stuck in the ice

with the thoughts of a silly brunette with a gun

(though she’s better than both, you’d think that she’s dead would give one a sign),

but regardless of that, he continues to pine.

It’s not that your Captain is out in the trenches

in terms of offers, though he’ll accept none.

He’s a frigid old man who sits on the benches,

which doesn't make sense

since one of his team mates is kept in suspense.

But not only Stark, maybe Coulson I think.

Even if he won’t claim it, it’s really quite sweet,

though he’s got it pent up. Must be quite a feat.

… you know what, I like him. He’s competent.

Has more power too.

The only thing he’s done wrong is associate with you.

 

On that note, the Widow, a woman of talent.

The problem is that she’s fixated on her little boys

and the drunken lech who fears her and gives her new toys.

It is sentiment and arrogance and perverse pleasure she gets

from their silly awed reactions when she pulls their strings,

because no one sees it coming when she does  _anything._

 

Then Bruce Banner, their doctor who has no MD

and the giant green monster

who runs about smashing their tower for me.

I come and I go, and then so does he,

but when Banner is back he’s panicked to see

that the walls are half gone and the floor a big hole.

Why, I hardly do anything to fulfill my goal

of pissing them off and keeping them busy

and not on my case when I stroll through their city.

 

  
And little Clint Barton’s a coward, you see.

Like a tiny song bird in the leaves of a tree,

he hides up on rooftops singing his tune

of “whitty” one-liners through the tech that they use

to communicate while dashing about.

They’re as clever a sound as the noise of a trout

as it drowns on the bank.

 

  
Is it you I should thank for this fun exercise?

 

I had doubts at first, but I want you to know,

that this little trick is starting to grow

on me. It’s very effective in relieving my stress,

but oh, don’t you worry, I won’t make you press.

You wanted to know my thoughts about Thor.

 

Well.

 

Let me assure you, there will always be more

I can say on my darling not-brother

and adventures he’s had that I can uncover

for you, which, let’s be honest, he doesn’t want you to know.

Like the time that he drug us all into the snow

and wanted to decimate the land’s population.

But let’s not be tacky, I won’t hold a grudge,

besides it’s more fun to discuss when he couldn’t budge

the hammer that time in Thrym’s court

and the lovely pink dress he decided to sport

when he married the giant. It brought out his eyes.

 

  
He’s arrogant and brutish, and generally lies with anyone that is willing.

Why when with the giants he got a taste for steel,

I don’t care if you think the story’s not real. It’s still true,

why do you think Mjolnir’s handle is so thick,

it’s really a replacement since he’s missing their-

Yes, don’t give me that look. I know that it’s crass,

not my fault he likes taking it up in the-

oh, your expression is really too much.

Fine, I’ll move on, you impertinent lush.

I do know about the flask in your coat, don’t act so surprised.

There’s no point in hiding it. I’m the God of Lies,

you imbecile.

 

If you’re this troubled now you might as well get it.

Your throat must be parched, don’t you want to whet it?

No? Your choice I suppose.

Are we done yet? I tire, and your company’s pathetic.

 


End file.
